by E. V. White
“Obviously youʼve never met a real woman,” she remarked softening her position a little.
Alex slightly frowned and Emily sensed that she had said something completely wrong.
“Iʼm sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your business,” she said hesitantly.
Alex returned to his usual smile.
“Donʼt be, you didnʼt say anything wrong. You simply stated the truth,” he acknowledged.
Emily looked at him, perplexed. He was nothing short of perfection, physically at least. Girls, he could have as much as he wanted; she wondered if it was really possible he had never met a woman who could stand her ground to him. She decided to keep her suspicions for herself since his response seemed sincere.
“Okay, Iʼm ready now,” she announced, closing the zipper of the bag.
Alex got up from the bed and took her suitcase. Emily was a little surprised but let him do it. After all, she was happy that someone fussed over her. She crossed the threshold without even looking back. She did not want to retain any memories of that room. She wanted to leave her past life, her mistakes, in there and did not want to take them with her ever again. She walked down the hall next to Alex and when she ventured to take hold of his hand she felt him tense up, but not a word came out of his mouth. She did not let him go. At that moment, she needed him because the world out there could be brutal without drugs making it seem less fierce and she had no idea how to face it.
Alex entered the flat followed by Emily. Luckily, it was a bit tidier than the last time he was there. Being sober also had its advantages from that point of view: you were able to make your home presentable if someone entered it. Moreover, the one thing that had improved the flat drastically was something that had actually disappeared. The smell of alcohol. Every time he got up with a headache that was quite severe, he almost fainted and his mouth burned by the previous nightʼs drink, one thing was unvaried: the stale smell of alcohol that permeated the room. That smell was gone. It had left room for reality, which, at times, was even scarier.
“Would you like something to eat?” Alex asked Emily inviting her to sit on the couch.
The girl thought for a moment then nodded. Alex smiled at her reaction.
“You don’t know if youʼre hungry?” He commented curiously.
Emily slightly blushed and followed him into the kitchen. She sat on one of the stools next to the counter.
“Honestly, yes,” she replied. “I mean, I donʼt know. Since Iʼve stopped taking oxycodone and started eating three times a day regularly, Iʼm not really sure if Iʼm eating because itʼs meal time or because Iʼm actually hungry,” she continued. “I’ve spent so many years eating only when I had stomach cramps that having regular meals unsettles my life,” she explained.
Alex looked at her briefly as he pulled some vegetables and eggs he had bought the day before out of the fridge. One of the many developments of his current life, considering Emilyʼs forthcoming arrival, was going to a real supermarket and carefully choosing what he wanted to buy while also wondering whether she would like it or not.
“Since I’ve stopped drinking I too have no idea of how and when to eat, you know?” He smiled as he found himself staring at the eggs, spinach and cheese in front of him. “At least now, I canʼ recognise different flavours. It all tasted the same before,” he added, still looking at the food, without moving.
Emily giggled and Alex looked up to meet her gaze. It was so peaceful compared to the last time she was there that Alex could not stop a smile from slowly appearing on his face.
”Apparently, though, you barely know how to put them together,” she surmised in front of his indecision on how to proceed.
Alex blushed. No one had never taught him how to cook. When he lived at his parentsʼ house, they had a cook who did it for them. His mother had never even boiled water to make chamomile tea and, if she needed it, she would wake the poor woman in the middle of the night to get what she wanted. When he moved to his own flat, he ate everything but an actually cooked meal. The best he was able to do was toast his bread with some ham and cheese in the middle.
“I never learned how to cook,” he admitted a little ashamed.
“Itʼs never too late,” stated Emily, getting up and going around the counter next to him.
Alex watched her break four eggs inside a glass bowl and hand it over to him with a fork.
“Whisk them while I look for a pan,” she said.
Alex stared at the bowl as if it was the command centre of a spaceship. He did not have the faintest idea how to beat eggs so he started to poke the yolks to break them apart. Then, mixing them with the egg whites was another mystery he was completely ignorant of. Emily went back to his side after she found a pan rummaging through the cupboards. She chuckled when she saw what he was doing.
“Like this,” she said, taking his hand and helping him with the correct movements to beat the eggs.
Alex tensed up. He was not accustomed to those types of contacts with the girl yet. He had never done such a thing by himself, let alone with someone else. The petite presence next to him who shook his hand was both pleasant and scary at the same time. He did not know how to identify the emotions he was feeling.
“Relax, itʼs only eggs, they wonʼt explode,” she teased him.
Alex let a sigh escape his mouth, letting out a bit of tension he had accumulated.
When the eggs were ready, he watched her with fascination as she cooked them and then added the cheese and spinach into the pan.
“Where did you learn to cook?” He asked her.
Emily smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes.
“My mother had two jobs to maintain my stepfather. He was drunk most of the time and I had to think of me and my sister,” she disclosed, barely able to pronounce the last word. “I had to learn to survive,” she added.
Alex watched her.
“You have a sister?” He asked surprised.
She nodded but said nothing more. She kept fiddling with the eggs nervously.
“You want to talk about it?” He ventured.
“I have a sister who still lives in that bloody house and I left her there to die,” she let out with a caustic tone. “Sorry,” she added in a whisper as she realised that she had been too harsh.
“You donʼt have to apologise. And, donʼt blame yourself for your sister. Sheʼll be able to handle it, youʼll see.” The boy tried to encourage her.
In truth, he had no idea the type of situation she was in, but did not want Emily to blame herself. He knew what it meant to feel guilty, to have that burden weigh down your heart until it crushes; he did not want the girl to feel that way. That sense of culpability led him to collapse into a black hole from which he had not yet managed to get out; he did not want her to plunge as he had.
“Since I was ten, my stepfather sneaked inside my room every time my mother had a night shift,” Emily began in a low soft voice. “And every time he left, he would tell me that I was a bad girl, that I was the one who provoked him and made him do things that weren’t right. I believed him. I was ten, I was terrified and I believed him,” she explained while tears clouded her sight.
“Emily...” Alex murmured, but she did not let him speak.
“I was fifteen when I left home and at the time my sister was only eleven. Who do you think he unleashed on when I left?” She asked, looking him in the eye for the first time.
“Emily...You can’t blame yourself. You couldnʼt continue that life,” he did not know what to say.
Alex did not know the right words to use to comfort someone in such a situation. He felt a mixture of emotions that were about to make him explode: anger against a man who had stolen the innocence of a little girl and sorrow for the girl in front of him who was his victim. Suddenly the girl with a thousand problems he had tried to save seemed to be the strongest woman he had ever met. She had fallen a thousand times, people had tried to crush her many times but she had always managed to get up. Even that day,
she left the clinic as a new person. She seemed like a phoenix, reborn from her own ashes. Alex could not help but continue hugging her. At first, she seemed surprised, but then returned the hug with such sweetness that he was warmed to the bones.
“Weʼll get her out of there, okay?” He whispered, kissing her head gently, a gesture that surprised him at first too.
She nodded but did not let him go. Alex rested his chin on her head and, for the first time, felt home.
*
Emily stood in front of the house that had been her childhood home until she was fifteen for about twenty minutes now. In one of the most anonymous district outside central London. Old houses, more or less identical except for the way they were falling apart. Some had plastic sheets on the roof to prevent water seeping down to the rooms; some had exterior walls where patches of plaster had peeled off; and others had courtyards filled with objects left to rust in the pouring London rain that was impossible to reach the fence falling apart at the bottom of the yard.
Houses belonging to people who were not particularly wealthy, generally immigrants who were not able to integrate with Londonʼs grumpy nature. People who looked after their own affairs without meddling in their neighboursʼ lives. People who heard the cries of a little girl who was regularly beaten but who pretended nothing had happened and carried on with their lives. Emily felt odium for that place, for those people, even though she knew they could have not done much to help her. Nevertheless, she felt abandoned, even by them.
“If you don’t want to go in, we can leave,” Alex whispered, slightly stroking the back of her hand with his fingers.
Emily did not look at him but felt his warmth on her skin, which reassured her. Since he had hugged her a few hours earlier in the kitchen, something had changed. Normally when she tried to touch him, he stiffened, almost in discomfort. Yet, the instant he wrapped his arms around her, something melted inside him and, from that moment, he looked for her, though apprehensive, as if he had never done it before in his life.
“No, I just need to find the courage to knock on the door,” she said sincerely.
“Iʼm here with you. Donʼt worry,” he whispered.
“I’m afraid she might hate me,” she whispered back, referring to her sister.
“You came back to get her. It doesnʼt matter if she thinks she hates you; what’s important is that you get her out of here now,” he explained sincerely.
Somehow, Emily believed him. That chap, so introverted and difficult to decipher, was the only one who gave her the confidence she needed. Perhaps it was because he had never told her lies and acted in a sincere way. She got up the nerve, went to the door and knocked lightly. She prayed with all her heart that her stepfather would not open the door and her wish was granted a few seconds later.
“What are you doing here? Go away, heʼll kill you if he sees you,” her sister hissed in a worried whisper.
Hannah had grown up. She had become a beautiful teenager with an earring in her nose and her hair dyed blue and pink. Her dark and heavy make-up partly covered her delicate features and brought out her blue eyes, which still showed a bit of the innocence they had when she left her three years ago.
“Is he home?” She asked without listening.
Hannah nodded.
“He collapsed on the couch an hour ago,” she said.
The fact that he was already drunk at four in the afternoon was routine and Emily was grateful that he had not changed his habits.
“Go upstairs, get your stuff and come with us,” she ordered with a firmness that surprised even herself.
Hannah looked at Emily first, then turned her gaze on Alex who remained a step behind her. She studied them for a moment as to understand whether to trust them or not, but when she laid her eyes on her sister again, hope filled her eyes. She closed the door a little and ran upstairs without making too much noise. Emily wished he would not wake up at that very moment. She was so nervous that, as a result of constantly biting her fingernails, she had blood on them. Alex took her hand and gently moved it away from her mouth. The girl looked at him for the first time since their arrival there and got lost in those huge blue eyes that made her feel safe.
“Donʼt worry, Iʼm here if he wakes up,” he assured her as if he had read her mind.
She nodded and a faint smile appeared on her face. A few seconds later the door opened again, her sister ran out and closed it behind her.
“Letʼs go before he notices that Iʼm gone,” she insisted making her way between the two of them and walking fast past them.
Emily and Alex caught up with her quickly and quietly made their way to the station. When they were far enough from the house, Hannah slowed down and opened the bag she had on her shoulder. The girl watched her pull out a teddy. Emily immediately recognised it. It was hers, the one she had as a child and had never abandoned until she ran away that autumn day three years earlier. Hannah handed it to her without saying anything. Emily grabbed it and held it tight to her chest with a mixture of emotions. It was just a teddy with only one eye left and ears that had been sewn back on countless times. It was worn out, battered, but it was also the only thing that knew what she had gone through. It was the one thing that kept the secrets that still made her feel ashamed and that she was not ready to confess to anyone.
Emily and Hannah sat on the couch of Alexʼs flat. The girl looked around curiously while the other two looked at her somewhat apprehensive, sipping their tea.
“Do you want to have some?” Emily asked her.
Hannah looked at the steaming mug with an expression of disgust on her face.
“Don’t you have any beer?” She asked disgusted.
Alex saw the hope in Emilyʼs eyes slowly fade and leave room for a grim expression that he could not decipher.
“No alcohol. Iʼm trying to quit,” he confessed trying to give some serenity to Emily, who was clearly struggling not to explode on the child.
Hannah looked at Alex first, then at her sister and a grin appeared on her face.
“An alcoholic and a junkie. Nice couple,” she sneered coldly.
“What do you care?” Emily snapped in a hiss.
“Do you really believe that no one you knew saw you begging on the streets for a dose?” She claimed with repulsion.
Emily blushed with shame and Alex felt like dying inside. She had made a mistake in the same way he had done but did not deserve to be prosecuted for it. He felt the need to defend her.
“The same people who knew what was happening to her at your house and did nothing to help her?” He rebutted.
Emily looked at him and smiled as Hannah gave him a look full of hatred. Alex knew he was antagonising the girl but did not care. She could not treat Emily like rubbish without him doing anything. The girl did not answer; she took the cup of tea and sipped a bit from it. Alex noticed that, as much as she tried to prove herself tough and asked for the beer, she was still a fourteen-year-old girl and the hot liquid gave her an obvious relief.
“I know it’s none of my business but... isnʼt there anyone who could help?” Alex asked seriously immediately after.
Emily shook her head.
“No relatives that Iʼm aware of. I don’t even know who my father is, our mother is an only child and the relatives of my stepfather are certainly not the first people to whom I would go,” said the girl.
Alex noticed that she never referred to her stepfather using his name.
“Your motherʼs parents? Your grandparents?” Alex asked hesitantly.
“They died before I was born,” she said.
“Thatʼs not true!” Hannah intervened puffing.
Emily and Alex looked surprised, almost stunned by her declaration.
“Mum had always told me they were dead,” Emily expressed her doubts.
Hannah rolled her eyes impatiently, an attitude that bothered Alex a lot. He was not used to dealing with troubled teenagers even though he himself had been one of them, and still was. Not a teenag
er but certainly troubled.
“Once I heard them argue when they thought I was at school,” she began to explain. “He told her to go ask our grandparents for money but she said that it was too much, that they owned a pastry shop in Brixton, not Buckingham Palace.”
Emilyʼs face turned white.
“Are you sure?” She posed credulous.
“Of course Iʼm sure. What reason would I have to tell you such a thing?” She demanded with an insolent air.
Alex could understand Hannahʼs anger toward her sister because, from her point of view, she likely saw her as the person who had abandoned her. It was, however, unfair to blame her for everything because, after all, she was only fifteen when she ran away, and it could not be expected that a girl of that age could have saved her from the same hell from which she was running away.
“Look, why donʼt you go have a shower and relax, huh? You know where the bathroom is,” he said quietly but with a firm voice that didnʼt allow no for an answer.
Hannah got up and looked at him straight in the eyes.
“If you want to talk about me behind my back just tell me to go away, you don’t need to make up any excuses,” she countered, trying to provoke him.
“Luckily you’re smart enough to figure it out for yourself without making me look rude,” Alex responded with half a smile.
He certainly was not going to be intimidated by a little girl and, this way, he succeeded; in fact, Hannah was taken aback by the boyʼs reaction, but then headed to the bathroom with a half-smile of approval. When she closed the door, the boy turned to Emily.
“Do you think it would be a good idea to find them?” He asked her.
Emily glanced toward the bathroom door then turned her gaze back to Alex.
“Would you be able to raise a little girl who is clearly out of control and hates you because you abandoned her all by yourself?” She stated honestly.
Alex looked at her not knowing what to say. Neither one of them hardly knew how to survive to the next day, they certainly were not capable of taking care of Hannah, who was obviously in need of a reliable adult figure to help her get through the massive amount of problems she had. It was not certain that their grandparents could do it since they had never met and had no idea who they were, but at least it could be worth a try.